One of the hard things for me was the way I found out about Tink's death.  That day, I was riding along with a neighbor in his dump truck.  He hauled gravel and as an 11 year-old, that was pretty cool.  We had worked all morning hauling but then he needed brake work done so he went to a shop in Elgin, IL, about 15 miles from our home.  The shop happened to be next to the recruiting office where Tink had enlisted.  So, knowing the Sergeant from when Tink signed, I decided to pay him a visit.  I walked in and asked for him but he was out.  As I turned to leave, he and another Marine came walking through the door.  Little did I know, they had just gotten back from my house.

He looked at me funny, with my smiling "good to see you" face.  He asked if I had been home.  I said no.  He asked how I had gotten there and after telling him, he then gently told me there was a problem and I needed to get home right away.  I asked if it was my brother.  He said "yes".  I asked "Is he hurt?"   Yes, he said.  "Bad?"  "Yes."  Finally, tears welling up in my eyes, I said "Is he dead?".  As soon as he said yes, I bolted for the door.

Running to the shop, crying probably uncontrollably, I told the neighbor what I had been told.  He got extremely angry and said that if this was a joke, he was going to knock some teeth down somebody's throat.  He went over to the recruiting office while I stayed at the shop.  He came back shortly, told the mechanic to put the truck back together and he took me home.

Our house was next to a big gravel lot where this guy parked his truck.  As we pulled in, my sister Bonnie came out of the house and walked through the lot toward me.  I jumped from the truck and ran to her.  She was thinking she would have to break the news to me.  I just said "I know" and ran to the house.  I went to my room and picked up the combat helmet Tink had given me on his last leave.  I just sat there with it for what seemed like hours until a cousin came in and started to take care of me.